


Let’s Play

by shinealightrose



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: I will never not be sad Lu Han didn’t get to sing Playboy, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Playboy AU, Space engineer!Lu Han
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightrose/pseuds/shinealightrose
Summary: Furloughed government employee Lu Han has to do something with his newly acquired time off. Meeting a playboy may be just the thing.





	Let’s Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [London9Calling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/London9Calling/gifts).



> In honor of my 100th fic on AO3! And dedicated to my greatest friend, @London9calling ❤️
> 
> Inspired by three things: 
> 
> 1) This tweet from @ExoOTPprompts : https://twitter.com/exootpprompts/status/1086273357815865345?s=21  
> 2) This Lu Han vid : https://youtu.be/q-p6xU4oIuQ  
> 3) And yes, the goddamn government shut down. I have friends who work at NASA sitting around literally twiddling their thumbs, so- this fic is for you! (Psh they’ll never read it. Thank god.)

It’s been ages since Lu Han laid on wet grass. He smiles, enjoying the stickiness of the earth, the slightly uneven ridges of weeds and dirt. His mother, if she were here, would laugh and then chide him for the inevitable grass stains on his shirt, shorts, even his socks. Somewhere over his head flies a soccer ball, followed by the aghast shrieks of his impromptu teammates. 

“Lu Han, you slug! You wanna get bowled over!? Get off your ass and move!” 

Jongdae is ever so eloquent. A moment later Lu Han sighs and heaves himself off the ground. The game continues around him, and Lu Han is emboldened by that familiar competitive rush of the sport, something he hasn’t experienced in over fifteen years. 

One hour later he sits in a bench drenched in sweat, starving hungry, and hurting. 

“Shit, maybe I went too hard.” 

His friend chuckles. “Been that long, huh?” Jongdae is arguably in just as bad shape. Where Lu Han feels like dying, Jongdae is actually wheezing. Lu Han knows he’s going to pay for all this tomorrow. Already his ankles are stressed, his back hurts, and Lu Han is positive he’s going to have a bruise on his forehead from that header he absolutely should  _ not  _ have taken. 

“Yeah. Maybe we shouldn’t have stepped into a game like this our first day out,” says Lu Han, laughing. 

They look around. Between the two of them the average age of their makeshift teammates went up drastically. There’s not a single other guy, girl, man, or woman over thirty-five playing this evening. Scratch that, there's no one even over twenty-five probably. Just Jongdae and Lu Han who happened to be passing the park right before a friendly and invited themselves to play. And as Lu Han’s body is remembering, it’s been exactly fifteen years since his last college match. Fifteen years since Lu Han gave up the sport that paid for his undergraduate degree, when Lu Han entered the masters program eventually graduating with a PhD in Aerospace Engineering.

It had been the start of a lucrative career, one Lu Han has been wholly satisfied with. Worth the sacrifices including giving up all the major hobbies: sports, music, dancing, and a social life. Not that Lu Han is totally adrift. He’s got Jongdae, self styled best friend and also Lu Han’s coworker, which is likely the only reason they are friends. Together they work officially five days a week, but it usually comes out totaling  somewhere around eight. That’s how it feels anyways. And Lu Han loves it. 

Or rather, he did love it. At least as far back as a week ago when the government shut down due to an imbecile president, and Lu Han’s nice, cushy government job told him to go home until further notice, last paycheck be damned. 

Lu Han isn’t totally pissed off. Unlike hundreds of thousands of other pissed off citizens and federal employees, he’s managed his money well and was already making bank. He’s at no real disadvantage unless the shut down lasts for months; he’s in no danger of losing his apartment or not being able to pay for utilities, insurance, or food. Lu Han doesn’t have a family to support fortunately, which makes this whole thing more of an inconvenience than an upset. He and Jongdae have declared they’ll take things in stride one day at a time, and in the meantime, maybe get around to rediscovering some old hobbies. Going for a jog and then playing soccer was Lu Han’s idea. Tomorrow Jongdae wants to take them boxing. Lu Han’s wrists and arms are already screaming in pain. 

“How about we just marathon TV tomorrow. Do boxing the day after that?” 

“No way! We could be back at our desks in two days. You really want to waste a whole day watching television?”

“I don’t know.” Lu Han shrugs. “Seems to me we have over a decade of prime time television to catch up.”

But Jongdae disagrees. “We are  _ not  _ watching Lost. Did you even read reviews from how it ended!? You want to sit up for hours just to be disappointed?” 

Lu Han wavers. “How about Game of Thrones?”

“I’d rather read the books.”

“Westworld?”

“Don’t we work with enough robots already?”

“Downton Abbey.”

Jongdae appears to think about it for five seconds. “On second thought, G.R.R Martin is probably never going to finish those books; let’s just do Game of Thrones.”

They end up boxing anyway. Five hours after that Lu Han is sprawled out on his couch staring at his fists wondering how it can be possible he still has any fingers left. Fingers are important digits, good for things like… typing. Or digging through the fine print of computer codes double, triple checking the numbers of a particularly complicated algorithm. Fingers are good stretched around one of his many nerdy coffee mugs he keeps around the desk. Like, Up and Atom; or, Y’all Mothafuckas Need Science; or, Lu Han’s favorite piece of nostalgia, Pluto. Never Forget. 

Now Lu Han daintily cradles his current cup of faded Bill Nye glory, praying he doesn’t drop the mug. Hands were made for drinking, not for being wrapped layers thick and pummeling immovable objects. Screw Jongdae and his old hobbies, tomorrow Lu Han is holing up by himself and rewatching Veronica Mars. 

He spends a couple minutes silently complaining to his cat, scrolls through the news feed on his phone, and finally deigns to check his work email. No news is boring news. There’s still no work for him. It’s Day 3 of the government shut down, and the most interesting proposal he’s received is for a banquet in honor of the engineers in his department who last year did some interesting bit of research in tandem with a private corporation. Honestly, Lu Han was hoping to pick up some freelance work, but a banquet would break up the monotony. 

He texts Jongdae.  _ Hey did you get the invite for Friday night?  _

Jongdae is unusually slow replying. Lu Han likes to think it’s because his hands are also suffering. 

_ Yep. Sounds like a black tie affair. You game? _

_ For free food? Fancy food? Always.  _

_ And here I thought you were a fried chicken forever kind of guy _

_ For 6/7 days of the week, you got it ;) _

That settles it then. On Friday evening Lu Han drags out one of two decent suits, still in its dry cleaning plastic, gives it a little shake, and stuffs himself inside. It smells like chemicals, and yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have left it in the bag but it’s too late now. 

He picks up Jongdae from his coworker’s mother’s house and is instantly put to shame. Jongdae looks a million bucks, plus he smells good. He gives Lu Han a scathing once over, disappears back into his house, and returns with a small phial. 

“Cologne,” he says, pushing it into Lu Han’s hand. “Use it.”

Parking at the event center is a bitch so Lu Han coughs up the $20 for valet service. His dress shoes are on the tight side of uncomfortable, so it’s worth not making the extra mile long hike. Once inside he’s doubly grateful he made that decision. 

“Is that a dance floor?” Jongdae whistles. 

They check in at a little table beside the entryway, conveniently “forget” to pick up their name tags, and head off to find their table. They’re seated not too close to the front, but not in the corner either. Lu Han greets a few of their other coworkers, and some he hasn’t seen since the project itself. 

“Lot of new faces,” he whispers. Jongdae nods. 

“I’m guessing this is part honoring the old project, part fundraiser for something else.”

“Think we’ll get a job out of it?” Lu Han asks. 

“Maybe. Personally I just want some cake. Daaaamn, did you see the dessert table? Delectable.”

Hallway through dinner is when Lu Han makes eye contact with  _ him.  _ Across their circular table, between various Joe Schmoes and John Smiths, at the next nearest table sits a man in a leather jacket, of all things. He’d look decidedly out of place except for his aura. Smoldering, that’s how Lu Han defines it. Angled just right and facing one another, Lu Han can’t find it in himself to look away. Then the man smirks like he  _ knows  _ Lu Han finds him attractive, and Lu Han turns away blushing. 

God, that was embarrassing. Fortunately Jongdae didn’t notice to give him grief. Lu Han turns his attention back to his other tablemate’s conversation. 

“You were saying? I sorry. Must have zoned out for a moment.” 

The man, a total stranger in another field of work, smiles, blond hair gleaming obnoxiously bright. “Oh, no problem, Dr. Han. Anyways, as I was saying…”

“It’s Dr. Lu.” 

“... is it? My bad. Anyways…”

Lu Han doesn’t hear a word that he says. Instead he nods politely and smiles when it seems appropriate. His mind is still puzzled by the man in the leather jacket. What he’s doing here, why he’s dressed that way, what’s his name, why he’s still… still looking at Lu Han. 

Lu Han tries covertly to sweep his eyes again over the man. The picture comes complete with smooth, dark brown hair pulled back from his face, dark eyes, serious expression, handsome. Very handsome. A heartbreaker. Lu Han tells himself to steer clear. 

It doesn’t go as planned of course. Lu Han is making his way later down the dessert line, a plate in either hand with Jongdae talking his head off behind, when he sees the man again. He’s standing to the side of the table, talking—no,  _ flirting _ —with one the servers there. He’s leaning down, palms impolitely resting in the table and a twinkle in his eye. Then he sees Lu Han. The man stands up, expression once again hard, server forgotten. He delivers another smirk, softer this time. Lu Han clears his throat and looks away, but unless he wants to forgo the chocolate cheesecake platter at the end of the table, he can’t abandon his place in the line. 

The seconds drag out. Lu Han can’t even comprehend why he wants to avoid him this much. Has it really been that long since someone flirted with him? Or even glanced his way? Lu Han hasn’t had a serious relationship in seven years. He’s been on approximately three single-outing dates between then and now. Lu Han just doesn’t have time. 

Well, a week ago he didn’t. A week ago he had job security, and enough work to keep him properly active and unconcerned about his lack of a paramour. Tonight, however, that’s different.

Lu Han stops running. He feigns a bored look and serves himself the cheesecake, peeking at the man in leather not so covertly through his lashes. Lu Han has pretty lashes, everyone says so. So it’s not so surprising when the man bites. 

“Wow, what’s a pretty fella like… myself doing without your name and number?” 

Lu Han looks up astonished, eyelashes blinking furiously. He wants to be annoyed, he really does. But, did he just get called pretty in a roundabout manner, or is this man before him actually the beautiful one? 

Lu Han cocks his head, smiling. “I’m Dr. Lu Han. Tell me yours and maybe we can talk.” 

Somewhere in the recesses of Lu Han’s intelligent brain, it’s telling him to back off. Dangerous, heartbreaker. A playboy. That’s what this man obviously is.

“Kim Minseok,” he says, before running his tongue along the corner of his lip and giving Lu Han a very obvious once over, head to toes, then back again. “You here with anybody?”

“Nope. He’s not,” quips Jongdae suddenly. 

Lu Han refuses to blush. He picks a spot just past this Kim Minseok, playboy extraordinaire, to stare at while he waits for Jongdae to walk away, a chuckle in the air.

“Guess that answers my question then.” 

Lu Han gets the impression of a very sexy kitten. Soft, sweet, seductive, prone to biting at any given second. Sharp claws. Very sharp claws. 

They’re interrupted by an announcer clearing her throat through a microphone, and to Lu Han it sounds like from very far away. There’s nobody Lu Han wants to listen to right now, no speeches please, no polite begging of funds, even if charity events like this sometimes go towards Lu Han receiving a hefty bonus check. 

He politely tips his head.  _ See you around?  _ He hopes to convey.

Minseok’s eyes narrow, but his smirk remains.  _ Damn straight I will,  _ he seems to say.

When Lu Han returns to his seat, Jongdae is giving him the  _ eye.  _

“What?” Lu Han mouths under his breath. 

Jongdae makes no such effects to be discrete. “How long has it been since you got laid?” 

Lu Han sighs and lifts his hand dramatically, starting to count his fingers. “Uhm, well let’s see. One. Two. Three, four, five… yes, five–“

“Months?” Jongdae whistles. 

“Five years,” Lu Han finishes with a little smile. 

Jongdae’s face falls, highly unimpressed. “Give me your keys,” he says instead. 

“What?” 

“Your keys, please. And the valet ticket stub.”

An hour later finds Lu Han on the steps of the event center without keys, car, or best friend. He shoves his hands into his coat pocket to drive away the cold. He does a little bounce, hope in his eyes as he looks around. 

Then a motorcycle rears around the line of valet drivers, obnoxiously loud horn blaring once, twice. Lu Han sighs. The rider is pulling off his helmet with a self-satisfied shake of his head, smile upon his lips. Kim Minseok in the flesh. 

“Wear this.” He tosses Lu Han a second helmet. He doesn’t even ask if Lu Han is coming home with him or not. 

But damn, it’s been an age since Lu Han rode on the back of a bike. College days at least, and certainly not while wearing a suit. He leans into the man in front of him, arms wound tightly around a slight but muscular body. Lu Han’s pretty sure he feels abs. His fingers tingle. He shuts his eyes to the wind. The ride is both too long and not long enough. 

Kim Minseok, occupation unknown, evidently lives in a nice part of town. The balcony of his tenth floor condo looks out over a picturesque public park and just a hint of the bayou. At night the street lamps glisten across the water’s dark sheen. Lu Han spies tennis courts, a baseball diamond, an unmarked field which might be used for soccer. 

“What’ll you have?” 

Lu Han turns around to see Kim Minseok has an actual mini bar in his place. Well of course he does, playboy. 

“Whisky.” 

Minseok nods, looking pleased. He pours a small glass and hands it over, then makes one for himself. 

The way he sits on the leather sofa is nearly as intoxicating as the drink. Arms outstretched, shoulders relaxed, one knee crossing the other. Bedroom eyes:  _ on.  _

He says, “Tell me about yourself.”

Lu Han smiles curiously. Isn’t this just a hookup? 

“What do you want to know?”

Minseok shrugs. “I know two things about you. Number one, you’re a doctor of some kind. Number two, that you’re looking very sexy right now.”

And okay, now Lu Han knows he’s blushing. But he’s also kind of exhilarated by this information. “Seems your observational skills are fine indeed.” 

Minseok raises his cup silently toward him, before tipping it back. Lu Han fixates on the bob of his Adam’s apple, mentally gulping at the sight of his profile, that pretty pretty jawline, those small, pressed lips, brightly illuminated by the sheen of whisky. 

Lu Han finishes his glass too just as the man says, “So,  _ doctor _ , aside from being sexy, what  _ do _ you do for a living?”

“I’m an engineer.”

“Unemployed?” 

“Furloughed.”

Minseok gives a curt laugh. “Government’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Lu Han nods. “Yourself?” 

“Same.”

Yes, Lu Han might have guessed. Only scientists and engineers and a few wealthy entrepreneurs would find themselves at tonight’s banquet. The leather jacket just makes Minseok seem more bold. What kind of man in Lu Han’s line of business shirks the dress code with such finesse? 

No need to ask. The answer is Minseok. Kim Minseok. 

Now Lu Han has to wonder, what government agency exactly does he work for, and is there a chance their paths will cross again one day? That would be awkward. Maybe. Maybe Lu Han doesn’t care. 

“What else do you want to know?” Lu Han turns and gives him a hard stare. 

Minseok pretends to think about it. Meanwhile, his eyes are level with Lu Han’s pants. 

“What else do I want to know? Let’s see now… You’re not married, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Lu Han agrees. 

“You’re single.”

“That’s, not a question though?”

Minseok stands and begins a slow saunter towards where Lu Han leans against the window. 

“Darling, even before I asked earlier, I could tell.” As he speaks his voice lowers to a whisper, the last words hushed against Lu Han’s ear. 

Lu Han trembles with adrenaline and the first rush of lust. Minseok crowding his space is every fantasy he’s never experienced before. Minseok palming the front of his shirt, fingers etching the muscles underneath… 

“I bet you don’t look half so good when you dress for work. What do you wear, lab coats?” 

“Another thing you want to know?” Lu Han’s breath hitches up a notch when Minseok finds a nipple, rubbing it through the shirt.

“Hmm, Yeah. Wanna visualize you everywhere.”

“Sometimes I -  _ ahh _ , sometimes I wear jeans a t-shirt.”

“Do you, baby? I’m glad. That’s  _ hot. You’re  _ hot.” 

And just like that, Lu Han’s shirt comes untucked from his pants, Minseok still whispering against his face, “I’m so glad. It’d be such a shame to hide this body away. Deserves to be under a spotlight.”

“Hmm,” Lu Han vaguely agrees. “Once upon a time I wanted to be a pop star. Was told I had the face for it.”

Minseok audibly growls. “And the body, shit they were right.” One button comes undone. Then two, three. “What stopped you?”

Lu Han laughs. He’s starting to touch back now, playing with the seams of Minseok’s leather jacket. “Honestly? The thought of shooting rockets to the moon.” 

“Also hot.” 

“Yeah… you know, for a playboy you sure like to talk.”

Minseok chuckles. “Is that what you think I am?”

“What, a playboy? Yeah.”

Lu Han’s shirt falls from his shoulders and slinks to the floor. 

“Suppose I can take that as a compliment. Say it again, Lu Han.” 

“ _ Ahhhh, _ ” he gasps instead, fingers now exploring below the belt. “ _ Playboy.”  _

_ “Let’s play.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two months later Lu Han arrives early to work. It’s only their third week back since the government reopened and he and Jongdae resumed their places partnering with a new team which is due to arrive today. Lu Han stretches his neck, arms rotated upwards as he stands over his desk. 

“What do you think?” says Jongdae. “Are we in for misery or will they be hot?”

Lu Han snorts. “Is that all you ever think about?”

“Well, Yeah. The average age of the last group they sent our way was above sixty.  _ And  _ they were married. Besides, when were you not curious? You were just as disappointed.”

“Was not.” 

“Was too.”

Alright, so Jongdae has a point. Or rather, he  _ had  _ a point. Lu Han just hasn’t been quite so forthcoming recently about his bedroom endeavors. So no, actually, he’s not curious about the combined average age or looks of their newest team members. He’s been, busy, thank you very much. 

That is until an hour later when the new guys arrive. Lu Han counts three women definitely within marriageable range, and two male senior citizens, no wedding bands on one. For Jongdae’s sake, Lu Han is glad. 

Then the group parts to make way for one last member. Lu Han’s jaw drops. His fingers start to tremble. Before him stands Kim Minseok, all decked out in his finest leather jacket, zippers gleaming, and looking  _ very  _ badboy. Meanwhile Lu Han is dressed in…

He looks down and curses. Fuck everything, if he had just  _ known  _ this was going to happen today!! Instead he had to wear his baggiest, most unflattering pair of faded, stressed, five years out of fashion blue jeans, and a pink fuzzy sweater with a tear in the sleeve.

Minseok stalks towards him looking appalled. Lu Han’s mouth opens and closes. He’s got nothing to defend himself. 

“Dr. Lu Han,” says Kim Minseok. “Why, on earth, are you wearing my sweater?” 

And Lu Han can only grin, sheepishly. “Uhhh, well. You know… you might have left it,” he coughs, “on the floor,” he ignores Jongdae’s gasp, “by my bed, last night? And it looked cozy?”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
